


Cold Stone Hides A Warm Heart

by drsquee



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BlackIce, M/M, Slight jackrabbit, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-01 08:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8616418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drsquee/pseuds/drsquee
Summary: Inspired by Luis Royo's The Unicorn.Trapped in stone, can the belief of another set them free?





	1. Obsidian

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for thedoublepp. A mindblowing artist and a sweet lovely person to talk to, I hope you enjoy it! http://thedoublepp.tumblr.com
> 
> First chapter is Obsidian, detailing Pitch, the second will be titled Alabaster in reference to Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be part of a series called Double Sided Coin, which was going to be stories told but with Pitch's and Jack's positions reversed in each fic. It may still happen but I actually think this story will stand well enough on its own.

Prince Jackson Overland Frost stared out of his bedroom window as the first snow of the season began to fall, delicate flakes spiralling down erratically from the grey clouded sky, cascading over the landscape before settling together to form a crisp blanket. Sighing, Jack folded his arms and lay his head on them, refocusing to look at his reflection, which looked just as miserable as he felt. His normally blue sparkling eyes were dulled, bags underneath giving them a sunken hollow look and his mop of blazing white hair was lank and greasy instead of being in its usual fluffy, spiked up state. Rubbing an eye tiredly, Jack tried to stifle a yawn, gritting his teeth against the pressure in his mouth.  

Three months. 

Three solid months now of barely little, if any sleep at all and Jack was sick to the back teeth of it, feeling himself becoming more and more agitated as the days and nights passed, snapping at any and all who said or did the wrong thing, his attention in his classes deteriorating. 

His father, King Frost, had been made aware by his teachers of Jack’s predicament and had called Jack to him at once, demanding Jack tell him at once why he was flagging. At first Jack had been reluctant and refused to explain, a sort of shame and embarrassment mixing with his stubborn-by-nature attitude but eventually he had broken down and told the truth. 

Nightmares. 

Since childhood, Jack had been plagued by nightmares. They had been infrequent and initially dismissed, the mind of a child adept at being able to shake off something as fickle as dreams. But as Jack had grown, the nightmares had begun to increase greatly to the point where now, at eighteen years old, Jack was having them every night. And for the past three months, Jack’s sleep had suffered immensely; either plagued with nightmares so badly when he did sleep that he woke up during the night and couldn’t fall back to sleep, or being so afraid to sleep in the first place that he stayed awake during the whole night, doing anything and everything in an effort to keep himself awake. 

Upon hearing his only child’s plight, the King had spoken to his advisors, who had come up with different remedies, all of which had proved fruitless. In a desperate attempt, the King had sent his people far and wide in search of anything that could cure the Prince’s ailment.  

After failing to keep his head off the desk during another lesson of his this morning, Jack had been told by his handmaiden that the King had requested that he be present in his room, apparently having found just what he needed. 

And so it was that Jack sat by his window, watching the snow as it began to cover the ground outside, frustrated at being kept in doors. Winter was Jacks favourite season, the first step onto that still, colourless landscape, the satisfying crunch it made underfoot, that cold that chilled you to the bone yet made you warm and sweaty within minutes. The perfect mix of fun and danger. 

A knock at his door made him turn, his handmaiden Toothiana poking her head around the door. “Master Jack? Your father is here”. 

Jack nodded, Toothiana pushing open the door wider to allow the King entrance, bowing slightly as he brushed past her. “Jackson! I think we may have found it!” 

Jack stood, stumbling slightly as his father slapped him on the shoulder. “Found it?” he asked, the King smiling widely. 

“Your cure! My advisor North, informed me of this priceless artefact and procured it for me at once!” He beckoned at Toothiana to fully open the doors to Jack’s bedroom, Jack straining not to roll his eyes at his father. He had had his fill of trinkets, potions and goodness knows what else to last a lifetime. Nothing had worked and he was beginning to feel like he and the advisors were just humouring the King. 

But as the servants began to tug something into his room, Jack felt a pull inside his chest, a deep throb that made his stomach feel like a weight had just been dropped inside it. He stared wide eyed as a great statue was dragged into his bedroom, the servants straining under its weight as they pushed and pulled it into his room, each giving a sigh of relief when the King waved his hand once it was fully in the room.  

Jack’s mouth dropped open as he took in the sight before him. The stone statue was completely black, as if it had been carved from the darkness itself, its surface glittering like charcoal when the natural light hit it. It had been carved into the shape of a tall, lean man who sat upon a cloud, set upon a stone dais, four small steps leading up to it. The man was leant back on the cloud in a relaxed position, one leg bent towards his body while the other was stretched out in front of him. He leant on one arm while the other was out stretched, as if gesturing someone to come closer, his head tilted to one side slightly in a contemplative gesture. Jack stepped forward, staring up at the behemoth of a statue. Its construction was flawless, not a single crack or fissure and as Jack looked up at the statues face, he felt floored by the detail he saw there. A long roman like nose sat on an angular face, sharp cheek bones giving it an almost regal look. The hair was swept back in waves and its eyes were inky black pools, framed by delicate long lashes. Tearing his gaze from the statues face, Jack looked at the outstretched hand, surprised to see what looked like tendons at the wrist and delicately engraved fingerprints.  

“Isn’t it magnificent? Carved completely from obsidian” his father said proudly as Jack gently ran his fingers over the statues palm, revelling in the smooth feeling. He could almost swear it had a pulse. 

Jack stepped forward to run his fingers up the outstretched arm, tracing up to the statues collarbone and down its chest. His fingers drifted down its chest, following his gaze when he realised the sculptor had decided to carve his subject naked, quickly turning away to look at his father as his cheeks began to heat up. “What is it?” 

“It’s a likeness of the ancient God of Nightmares, Pitch Black” his father said stoically, looking up at the statue as Jack walked back to his side. “It was said that anyone who suffered from nightmares could pray to him, and he would come and feed on their nightmares, giving them a peaceful rest. Generals and soldiers would also make tributes to him during wars, imploring him to give nightmares to their enemies…he was quite feared as a God for his dominion over man’s dreams”. 

Jack swallowed loudly, staring up alongside his father. “And you think that it will…help me with my nightmares?” 

“I would like to think so! North told me that the previous owner was reluctant to part with it, as he hadn’t suffered from nightmares since it had been in his possession” King Frost clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder, smiling gently at his young son. “We can but try right?” 

Jack nodded and his father nodded firmly, moving towards the exit with Toothiana. “Hopefully, tonight will be the night my son finds his way back to us, huh Toothiana?” 

Toothiana smiled gently and bowed her head. “I will keep my fingers and toes crossed for the Prince my King”. 

King Frost laughed heartily then smiled at Jack. “I will ask the servants to bring your supper here so you can get an early night…come find me in the morning and let me know how you slept”. 

Jack nodded as they left, his gaze drifting back to the statue as the door clicked closed behind them, leaving him alone with the imposing stone figure. Shifting slightly, Jack tried to shrug off the strange feeling he got from the statue. Like it wasn’t just a statue, but a living breathing being, trapped forever within the crystallized form before him. 

Turning away, he went to his desk and sat down, pulling one of his class books to him and turning to the most recent page he’d studied in his lessons, trying to ignore the strange pull he felt from the statue. His supper was soon delivered to his room and he ate quickly, clearing his plate and handing his plate back to the servants before dismissing them for the night. Drawing himself a bath, he bathed then dressed for bed, feeling the weariness of sleep deprivation pulling at him as he dressed, his eyes feeling itchy and achy.  

About to climb straight into bed, Jack paused, glancing at the imposing figure across the room from him, the statue seemingly gazing out of his window. The flickering lights from the candles he had lit cast a strange light over it, as if their light couldn’t penetrate its surface, and the shadows it cast seemed stretched and distorted instead of flickering as normal shadows would.  

Cautiously, he padded across to it and stared up at the figure, sliding his fingers into its outstretched palm. The figure did not move and yet Jack felt like its attention was on him, waiting for him to make his move and a sudden tiredness came over him, Jack laying his cheek onto the outstretched palm as he closed his eyes. 

“I don’t…don’t usually believe in things like this. Gods and such” he said quietly, unsure of what exactly was prompting him to speak. “But…I’m so tired. I…I can’t…I can’t stand them anymore”. He opened his eyes, trying to stifle the hot tears he felt collecting in his eyes, stroking the inside of the statues wrist with his fingertips as he spoke. “So please…please take these nightmares from me. I’m begging you…please help me”. Turning his face into the palm, Jack softly kissed the hand, shuddering out a breath. “Please”. 

He looked up at the statue then shook his head, feeling silly for expecting any kind of reaction from a chunk of polished stone. He huffed a laugh then pressed another quick kiss to the inside of the statues wrist. “Well…sweet dreams, my Nightmare King”. 

Padding back to his bed, Jack blew out the candles then crawled under the covers as the room plunged into total darkness, snuggling into the softness of his pillows, his eyes never leaving the statue. The waves of tiredness began to crest over his mind, his eyes feeling heavier as he continued to stare at the statue until his consciousness slipped into nothing. 

* * *

 

Jack awoke the next morning in a daze, blinking awake as his mind regretfully pulled itself back into consciousness. Rubbing an eye tiredly, he looked over to the windows to judge the time. From the position of the sun, it looked like early morning so Jack flopped back onto his belly, snuggling into the pillows as he closed his eyes, ready to grab a few more moments of sleep. 

Which is when he jolted up, now wide awake.  

He’d slept. Through the whole night.  

With no nightmares.  

Running a hand through his hair, Jack tried to recall if he’d actually dreamt at all but his mind could not grasp on a stable memory. If he had dreamt, he couldn’t remember it, but it was just as easy that his sleep had been so deep that he hadn’t dreamt at all, his body and mind completely shut down to rest. 

Smiling widely, he threw back the covers and rolled out of bed, stretching his arms above his head, feeling his muscles stretch and his joints pop pleasantly. With a laugh, Jack practically danced up to the great marble statue of the Nightmare King, its body glittering in the morning light that peeked through the curtains. Hopping up the stone dais, he jumped up to wrap his arms around its slim neck, hugging it tightly before pulling back slightly, planting a kiss on its cool, unresponsive mouth. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, a million times, thank you!” Nuzzling its chin with his nose, Jack closed his eyes, letting out a happy sigh before letting go of the statue, leaping off the stairs with a laugh, feeling lighter than he had in months.  

Washing and dressing quickly, Jack left the room, intent on telling his father the good news. So ecstatic he was, that he missed the small smile that was curved on the statues lips as the door shut behind him. 

* * *

 

It had been a month since Jack had received the statue of Pitch Black and he could not have been happier. Despite the fact that he never dreamt anymore, he had not had a nightmare since either and had always awoke, refreshed and ready to face the day.  

He currently sat on the edge of his bed, staring up at the wondrously carved figure before him, his mind aflutter with thoughts. Standing, he walked up to the statue, trailing his fingers lightly over its open palm, his eyes never leaving its delicate features. The mid-winter sun trickled in through the windows, illuminating its smooth surface, making it glitter as if stars were trapped beneath its surface. 

Jack inhaled sharply, feeling the now familiar tug in his chest he had begun to feel every time he stood in its presence. Stepping up the dais, he laid a hand gingerly on the Nightmare Kings chest, examining its features. The statue’s gaze stared off into the distance as it always did, Jack leaning in closer, feeling dwarfed just being so close to it. Leaning up on his tiptoes, he tried to peer into the statues eyes and started when he saw what seemed like a flicker in its gaze. Almost like, for a moment, it had turned its focus to Jack.  

Biting his lip, Jack climbed up and stood on the statue’s thigh as he laid both his hands gently on Pitch’s chest, lidding his eyes as he placed a chaste kiss on the statue’s lips. “Thank you…I just…ever since you came I…I feel so much…better. Not just with my sleep either. With…everything…” He leaned his head on the statues lips, sighing heavily. “I…I kinda wish you were real though…would be nice to talk to you”. 

Lowering himself back down, Jack huffed a laugh at himself, stepping back off the dais and running a hand through his hair. “What’re you doing Jack?” he said to himself, scoffing as he turned away. Pulling his eyes away from the statue, he summoned one of his personal guards then began to remove his more restrictive clothing, keeping his gaze away from the carved marble. 

He sat on his bed as the door opened, Aster Bunnymund poking his head around the door. “You summoned me, Your Highness?” 

“Yes Aster, I’m feeling a little…highly strung” he smirked, leaning back suggestively on the bed. “I thought you might like to help me out with that”. 

Aster smirked back, glancing back over his shoulder before stepping inside, quietly closing the door behind him before leaning his staff by the door, removing his helmet as he approached Jack. He was sturdily built, his salt and peppery hair cropped closely to his skin as was his stubble, the combination giving him a distinctly rugged look, even among the bigger soldiers. Jack had never held himself back from satiating his needs and Aster had always been more than happy to help Jack with his…frustrations.  

Setting his helmet down on the bed, Aster knelt before Jack, looking up at him with a wicked smirk. “And how does your highness wish me to...relieve him?”  

Jack rolled his eyes and pulled Aster up to him, breathing against his lips. “Why don’t you put that silvery tongue of yours to use instead of back chatting me, hmm soldier?” 

Aster grinned and leaned in, biting Jack’s lower lip playfully as he undid his Prince’s trouser fastenings, lowering his head as he pulled Jack’s erection free from his pants, Jack letting out a small sigh as Aster’s mouth surrounded him, warm and wet and just what he needed. 

He let his head roll back as Aster’s tongue swirled around his cock, closing his eyes as he focused on that wonderful heat, pushing his fingers into Aster’s cropped spikes before lifting his head up, lidded eyes glancing at the statue at the side of the room. 

Jack choked, straightening and grabbing Aster’s hair tightly in shock, Aster letting out a pained noise in his throat below him.  

The statue was looking at him, it’s brow creased in something like annoyance mixed with sadness, the corners of his mouth turned down. 

Jack blinked and sat up straight, letting go of Aster’s hair as Aster sat up on his knees, rubbing his head with a small confused frown. “Your Highness? Something wrong?” 

“What?” Jack asked, turning to Aster in disbelief before looking back at the statue only to do a double take. 

It was no longer looking at him but back to its original position, looking out the window, a faraway look on its face. 

Jack stood, staring at the statue as Aster stood, looking back and forth between the two curiously. “Jack? Are you ok?” he asked gently, cautiously laying a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Jack’s gaze never left the statue, watching it as if it would get up and stride down the stone dais at any moment. “Did you see that?” he breathed and Aster’s frown deepened, looking at the statue then back at Jack. 

“See what.... Jack?” he asked, giving him a little shake to pull him from his reverie. It seemed to work as Jack blinked and looked at Aster, his mouth open as if to speak before deciding against it and smiling apologetically, shaking his head slightly.  

“I’m...I’m sorry Aster I... I guess I was just seeing things”, he looked down at his now flaccid cock and sighed, looking back at Aster. “Maybe another time?” 

Aster pursed his lips, wanting to say more than sighed and picked up his helmet. “As you wish Prince Jackson” he said dejectedly, heading back to the door and picking up his staff as he exited, closing the door gently behind him. 

Tucking himself back into his pants, Jack watched Aster go with a sigh, running a hand through his hair before glancing at the statue. Clearly his dreamless sleep was affecting him in other ways. 

Shaking his head at his wild thoughts, Jack re-dressed himself and decided he must’ve been seeing things, giving it no more thought as he carried on with his day. 

* * *

 

Jack gasped awake with a start and sat up, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, his brow bathed in sweat. He looked around in the darkness, mind still sleepily trying to catch up with his already wakened body and closed his eyes as he willed his heart to stop thudding in his chest. Pushing back the covers, he lit the candle on his bedside table, the dim light making shadows dance on his walls as he fumbled with the pitcher of water on his bedside table, pouring himself a mouthful in his glass and downing it in one gulp. 

Getting his breathing under control, he pulled his knees up to his chest and stared down at the shadows on the floor.  

A nightmare. He couldn’t believe it. After all this time, since Pitch had been brought into his life, he had grown complacent, so sure of Pitch’s ability to give him a dreamless sleep that he’d never believed for a minute they’d come back. 

What an idiot.  

Jack closed his eyes, annoyed at himself. He should’ve known. Should’ve realised he wasn’t immune to darkness and nightmares. Shouldn’t have so blindly put his faith in carved marble just because of a few good nights... 

An image of Pitch looking at him in disappointment flashed in his vision and he opened his eyes, blinking as a slow realisation came to light, turning slowly to look over his shoulder at the statue, partially hidden by the shadows in the room. 

“No...” he breathed, slowly standing and walking around the bed, stopping in front of the stone dais to stare up at the carved God in disbelief. “Was...was this you?” 

Of course, the statue did not answer, yet Jack couldn’t help his surety that Pitch had let this nightmare slip past him because he was...jealous? Upset? But surely that was impossible! 

Jack bit his lip as he folded his arms, looking up at the statue warily. Had he offended Pitch? Usually before bed, he would do as he had done that first night Pitch had been brought to him. He would lay his head in Pitch’s outstretched hand and ask that Pitch take his nightmares from him before kissing Pitch’s palm and bidding him good night, climbing into bed and falling into a dreamless sleep, arising the next morning and thanking Pitch for the peaceful night. 

But after Aster’s departure earlier that day and the subsequent apprehension Jack had regarding the statue after he thought he had seen it move, Jack had kept his distance from it, barely giving it a second glance when he was in the same room and forgoing his nightly ritual, instead climbing into bed almost as soon as he was dressed and extinguishing the candles, keeping his back towards Pitch even in the darkness. 

But surely the statue couldn’t...feel? Jack knew it wasn’t a normal statue, had always known there was something out of place with it but to suggest it was somehow sentient... 

Steeling his nerves, Jack ascended the stone dais and stood before Pitch, laying a hand gently on the statue’s carved chest.  

“I’m sorry” he said softly, looking at his hand before tilting his head up slightly, looking at the statue’s chiselled features. “Was it Aster? Did you not like...what we...we did? Or was it...was it that I didn’t pray as I usually do?” He paused then sighed, looking down at his hand placed on Pitch’s chest. “Whatever I did...I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to offend you” He huffed a self-depreciating laugh. “I guess I need to pay more attention in religious studies huh?” 

Again, the statue did not answer but it did not deter Jack, rather it spurred him on, a need inside Jack to elicit a reaction from the carved figure. He trailed his fingers lightly over the sculpted chest, running a finger over the collarbone. “Maybe...maybe there’s something I could do...to make it up to...you?” 

The statue remained still as always but as Jack looked up to its face, he swore he could see Pitch’s eyes shimmer. Biting his lip, he put a foot on Pitch’s thigh and hoisted himself up, coming face to face with the carved God, wrapped an arm around Pitch’s neck to steady himself as he stood on the statue’s sturdy thigh, his other hand braced against Pitch’s chest. Jack’s stared at Pitch’s eyes, trying to see something, anything, but all he saw was darkness. He sighed, about to climb down when there. 

A glimmer. 

A gold spark amidst the black.  

It was brief, so painfully brief that Jack thought for a moment that he had been mistaken, that it had been a trick of the low candle light and the dark.  

But no. He was certain. Pitch had seen him. 

His breathing became unsteady, eyes flicking over to the closed door as a flicker of doubt, of being caught surfaced in the back of his mind before he dismissed it. It was the dead of night, only the guards would be patrolling at this hour and even then they would not enter a room unless summoned.  

Lidding his eyes, Jack turned his attention back to Pitch, leaning forward and nuzzling Pitch’s nose lightly with his own, removing his hand from Pitch’s chest and pushing his hand beneath his robes, taking himself in hand and stroking lightly as a soft sigh escaped his lips. 

He hardened gradually as he continued his languid strokes, breath becoming shallow as Jack lidded his eyes, his gaze trained on Pitch’s own beautifully carved lips. Without thinking, his tongue darted out and he licked Pitch’s lips lightly, surprised at the detailed roughness he felt there. His strokes quickened as he did it again, feeling emboldened and leaning in to kiss the statue softly, closing his eyes as embarrassment at what he was doing mixed with his growing pleasurable need. 

He flinched in surprise when he felt soft lips press back against his, the chaste kiss and pent up pleasure making him cum, shuddering as it leaked down Pitch’s carved chest, hips thrusting as he continued to stroke himself until he could bear the touch no longer, leaning against Pitch tiredly as he sighed.  

His eyes flicked to Pitch’s, searching for any sign of acknowledgement only to droop when he saw nothing. Leaning away, Jack looked down at himself and the statue with a grimace, shakily climbing down from his perch on Pitch’s thigh. “Sorry ‘bout that...here”, he said, grabbing an unclean shirt he’d worn during the day from the floor and gently wiping the mess from Pitch’s chest before cleaning himself, throwing it to one side when he was done and looking up at the statue. 

Could he have imagined it? But it had felt so real... 

“I’m sorry about earlier” he said, unsure of why he felt compelled to speak to the statue, to explain himself. “It was rude of me...I hope you forgive me”. 

Receiving no response from the carved marble, Jack sighed and kissed its palm as he did every night, covering his mouth as a yawn pushed its way through. “Goodnight My King. Pleasant dreams” he said quietly before climbing into bed, pulling the covers up to his throat and snuggling into the pillow as sleep pulled at him. 

As he sank further into unconsciousness, the last thing he saw was Pitch’s head turned towards him, the statue’s inky black gaze unwavering as sleep claimed him. 

* * *

 

The next few nights progressed in very much the same fashion. Jack would spend his evenings in his room with the statue of Pitch, sometimes pleasuring himself before the carving, sometimes just sat in its presence, observing every detail carved into the marble. Other-times he would sit in its lap and read, falling asleep in its presence yet somehow waking up the next morning in his bed.  

Whenever this happened, it only made Jack even more certain that the statue had begun to move. He was so sure that the few times he had fallen asleep in Pitch’s lap, he had felt cool fingers thread through his hair, soothing him to sleep. Often there were times when he had felt a gaze on him, only to turn and find Pitch’s eyes turned to the window instead of him.   

It was one afternoon when he had a free period before his next lessons started, Jack was once again sat at the bottom of the stone dais, looking up at Pitch with a furrowed brow, that Jack realised he knew next to nothing about the Nightmare God. There were legends of course, myths and stories told in his religious lessons, where he was taught a little of each God. 

But unlike all the other gods, Pitch was the one he knew least of. His tutors had glossed over him when lessons had steered towards the topic and there was next to nothing in history books or religious text.  

Deciding that this lack of information needed to be rectified, Jack stood and kissed the inside of Pitch’s wrist gently before leaving his room, heading to his Father’s Advisors chambers.  

Knocking on the giant oak doors, Jack took a moment to admire the intricate details carved into them before they were opened, the face of Nicholas St North peering out in curiosity before it broke into a grin. “Jackson! How wonderful to see you! Please, come in!”. 

Jack grinned in response and stepped inside, North shutting the door behind him. Jack looked around him, staring in wonder at the inside of North’s room, shelves filled with rows upon rows of books, beautifully carved statues and colourful maps littered over any and all surfaces. Despite the fact he had been inside many times, Jack could never help but be awed by the things he saw in North’s room, seeing something new and different every time. 

“Now then my dear Prince, how may I be of service to you this fine day?” North asked, his voice loud and booming, smiling as he sat at his cluttered desk, gesturing for Jack to sit across from him which Jack politely declined. 

Pausing for a moment, Jack tried to think of the right way to say what he wanted. “You're very knowledgeable North…despite my numerous lessons, I always seem to learn more in a two-minute chat with you, then I do spending an entire day in a classroom” he said, picking up a small carving and inspecting it as North chuckled, leaning back in his chair. 

“Sometimes, one can learn everything they need to know in one sentence than a lifetime of reading books in a classroom…you just need to hope you're talking to the correct person” he replied with a wink, Jack turning to him with a smile before he replaced the carving, taking the proffered seat across from North. 

“Well that’s why I’m here…I’m hoping you can help me North. Anyone I ask seems to either know very little, or know a lot but won’t tell me anything. I’m hoping you will be different”. 

“I will do what I can my Prince” North said with a gentle smile, Jack leaning forward, his expression turning serious. 

“What do you know about Pitch Black?”. 

The jovial smile fell from North’s and he looked away, suddenly becoming wary. Jack sighed heavily and sat back, crossing his arms. “Every time I say his name; everyone gives the same look! North, please! I need to know; who was he? Why is there no information about him in books or texts?”. Jack ran a hand through his hair in annoyance. “Dad told me when he gave me the statue that he was the God of Nightmares…that people would pray to him and he would eat their nightmares, or curse their enemies with them. But there has to be more to it than that!”. 

North sighed, picking up one of the carvings from his shelf, turning it over in his hands as he contemplated. “It pains me to say this Jack, but as knowledgeable as I am, I am also very superstitious, as are many of the others with knowledge about the Gods”. 

Jack frowned, confused as North turned to him with a small smile. “Forgive me, I am being unclear. Let me start again”.  He leaned forward, opening his arms wide as he looked at the ceiling. “Along time ago, people used to worship Gods of all natures. None more than the two Gods that presided over the dream realms; Sanderson Mansnoozie, the God of Dreams and Pitch Black, the God of Nightmares”. 

Jack leaned forward, listening intently, his hands clutched tightly on his lap. Even in his religious lessons, they had never gone into depth about the Older Gods and he knew he’d need to listen closely. 

“There was no love lost between the two, but they had an uneasy alliance, as they were both as loved and feared and as necessary as any of the other Gods. Sanderson mostly dealt with the dreams of children, giving them good dreams and inspiring those dreams to become reality. Pitch however, dealt with both adults and children, either eating the nightmares of the faithful or cursing their enemies to sleepless nights, forever tormented”. 

Jack swallowed loudly as North paused, feeling like he was on the precipice of something huge. 

“While Sanderson was content to soar above the clouds, Pitch, like many other Gods, like to take mortal form every so often and walk among us, listening to the fears of others and learning our ways. Even in his mortal form, he was formidable; able to manipulate shadows to his will and travel through them as he wished”. North leaned forward conspiratorially. “This is why people do not speak of them lightly…you never know who might be listening”. North winked and Jack offered a small smile in return. 

“One day, while going about his duties, a follower called out to Pitch, beseeching an audience with him. Not one to dismiss his followers’ pleas, Pitch took on his mortal form and went to speak to this follower. But the follower had deceived him and, using ancient magic, managed to trap Pitch Black in stone, keeping him trapped here among us”. North leaned back in his chair, fingers steeple as he raised an eyebrow at Jack. “The same statue that you currently possess”. 

Jack stared in disbelief, his mouth hung open slightly. “B...but why would he do that? If he…if he was faithful…” 

North spread his arms wide. “Who knows what lies in the minds of men? Maybe the fellow had terrible dreams and became desperate…maybe he was selfish, wanting the power of a God for himself…alas we will never know”. He sighed. “But who can say if this story is even true? Maybe it is a fanciful tale, told to entertain children: or maybe it is true and he is really trapped...alas, we shall never know”. His brow creased, an apologetic smile on his face. “I am sorry I do not know more, My Prince. It is hard to decipher the ancient texts, even harder to decipher which tales are true or false”. 

“Not at all North...you’ve, you’ve actually been a big help”. He stood, extending a hand to North. “Thank you for your time”. 

North stood, taking his hand firmly in his own, shaking his hand as he smiled warmly. “Not at all Prince Jackson. You are welcome here anytime!”. 

As Jack exited the room, North sat back in his chair and sighed heavily as he stroked his whitening beard thoughtfully. “Interesting” he purred quietly. “Very interesting”. 

* * *

 

He awoke to darkness, blinking slowly as his eyes tried to adjust, his mind fuzzy with sleep. 

Unable to move, or possibly more unwilling, Jack searched the room, eyes still struggling to adjust to the inky blackness spread before him as he tried to seek out what had disturbed him. 

It seemed to encompass and swallow everything, as if light was forbidden to brush against it, let alone penetrate it but eventually his eyes began to make out shapes in the darkness. His bedside dresser. The cupboards across the room. 

The form of a man sat next to his bed.  

Flinching, Jack stared at the shape not even a foot away from him, his mind struggling to process the sight. When it did not move he relaxed, realising he must've mistaken a bunched up pillow for the shape of a man.  

But then it moved and two gleaming rings of gold met his own. 

He gripped the covers as he froze, sharply inhaling. His body tensed as golden eyes bored into his own, moving minutely back and forth as if searching for something. Blinking, Jack began to make out the smooth outline of a chiselled jaw, resting on crossed arms, realising that the person was sat beside his bed, resting their head on their arms as they watched him.  

Summoning some courage, Jack released his grip on the sheets and moved his arm above the covers, biting back a hiss at the temperature difference as his hand moved from warmth to cold air, slowly moving forward, stopping a few inches away from the shadow. 

The golden eyes looked at the hand then back at him briefly before the body moved, a shadow lifting towards Jack's hand, hesitating before it touched, pressing itself completely against Jack's. It felt cool to the touch, strong and immoveable and incredibly smooth and silky but Jack could feel the dips and curves on the hand, the heel of his palm level with the shadows yet its fingers were so much longer, stretched out but not splayed.  

"Are..." He whispered, swallowing nervously, his voice sounding loud in the silence of the room. "...Pitch?". 

The eyes moved and although Jack could not see the details of the shadow's face, he somehow sensed that it was smiling at him. His fingers flexed against the hand and he licked his lips before slowly sliding his fingers between the shadows own, clasping its hand loosely. It paused before following suit, the two sitting together in the darkness of the room, joined only by their hands. 

Jack's arm ached from where he held it aloft but he could not bear to let go, staring at the golden eyes that held him so, the only thing visible in the shadow. "I knew it...I knew you were real" he breathed, the shadow tilting its head at him. "Is this real? Or am...am I still dreaming?". 

The eyes grew glazed, holding a hint of sadness in them and Jack felt his heart ache, unconsciously squeezing the shadows hand in a gesture of comfort.  

The shadow moved, rising to sit on the bed beside him and he leaned back slightly, blinking as the shadow let go of his hand, its golden gaze never wavering from his own as it lifted its hand, fingers of shadow threading through his hair in a comforting manner. As it repeated the gesture, Jack felt his eyes grow heavy again, his mind soothed, head relaxing into the softness of the pillow. As he began to drift off, he heard a voice, a deep rumble, like the sound of thunder in the distance, foreboding yet somehow comforting all the same. 

" ** _Sleep Princeling_** ". 

So he did. 

* * *

 

"Honestly, My Prince, I am having a hard time believing such a thing is possible". 

"I know what I saw North! He's real I swear it!". 

North's brow crinkled, leaning forward to stare into the dull gaze of the statue, searching it's chiselled features as Jack watched from below, tapping his foot in irritation.  

As soon as he had woken up the next morning, he had dressed and gone straight to North, pulling him away from his breakfast and to his room as swiftly as North could keep up, insisting that Pitch was real and as trapped as North had suggested. Calling for a ladder (because North had a little more decorum than Jack and was less prone to climbing priceless statues), North had looked over every inch of the statue, from its carved toes to the finely chiselled strands of hair on its head but had found nothing. No crack or crease or anything to suggest that the statue was indeed alive, or housing a living deity, North trying to hide his concern behind an expression of curiosity.  

"Maybe it was a lucid dream My Prince...they can seem so real to our tired minds", North suggested, his voice jovial as Jack shook his head, his folded arms tightening.  

"He's real North! I know it! I woke up and he was there! By my bed! I...I touched his hand...". Jack looked off to the side, North holding back a sigh as he descended the ladder to stand beside Jack, looking up at the statue as he clasped Jack's shoulder.  

"My Prince, I have looked over every inch of this statue and your guards have searched every inch of your room...there is nothing to suggest another person was here last night. I am thinking, maybe it was dark...it was very late...maybe your eyes mistook shapes in the dark for something that wasn’t there?". North tried to keep his voice light and cajoling, worrying that he was coming across as condescending.  

The expression on Jack's face faltered slightly, his arms loosening their grip. "I...I suppose its...its possible".  

North smiled sympathetically, turning to look up at the statue once more. "Forgive me Prince, I know this wasn’t the answer you were looking for-"  

"No no its...its ok North" Jack gave him a weak smile. "Thank you for coming and...I'm sorry for pulling you away from your breakfast". His expression became sheepish, North chuckling as he patted Jack's shoulder. 

"Belief can be a very tricky thing no?" North pondered before moving to exit the room, waving over his shoulder. "Although I must admit, it does seem to have lost some shine...maybe time to move away from the windows hmm?". Smiling at Jack over his shoulder, North gave a quick bow of his head before disappearing, closing the door behind him. 

Jack blinked, taking in North's words as he looked up at the statue. "Lost its shine? What is he...". 

Rushing over, Jack ascended the dais and ran his hands over Pitch's carved chest, staring intensely at the carved stone. 

Sure enough, the surface was no longer an impenetrable black inky void, whose surface glittered like trapped stars. 

Instead it was now a dull worn black, like the leather of a scuffed boot. 

Jack stared in amazement, slowly lifting his gaze to Pitch's carved features. "This is you....isn't it? You came to me last night and now...". He slowly slid his hand over the surface. "How is this even possible?". 

Of course, the statue offered nothing, Jack sitting on the floor by its feet, a pout on his face. "At least let me know if you’re going to keep watching me sleep at night...then I don’t wake up completely freaked out". 

Again, the statue was not forthcoming so Jack folded his arms, peering up at it questioningly before getting up and climbing up onto his usual perch on Pitch's thigh, peering into the statue's eyes, watching for anything flicker, or glimmer of recognition.  

When nothing happened, he sighed and climbed back down, turning his attention instead to the day's activities and his now partially cold breakfast. 

* * *

 

Something was prodding him. 

Jack furrowed his brow, despite being asleep. Well, prodding was not exactly what it was, but what it felt like. His half asleep mind was being poked into consciousness by something else and he wasn’t exactly happy about that, given that he'd been asleep a couple of hours now. 

Eyes fluttering open, he awoke to see sunburst eyes staring at him not a foot away and jerked, flinching in shock. When the eyes blinked, he relaxed, sighing sleepily. "Rude" he mumbled, a glimmer of a smile on the shadow's face as it lay next to him, its head on the opposite pillow to Jack's, once again watching him sleep.  

Rubbing an eye, his eyes began to focus in the darkness, realising with a start that the shadow now had definition. It had an aquiline nose that emphasised the sharp lines of its jaw and cheekbones, its eyebrows thin but defined.  

It was most definitely Pitch Black laid beside him in bed. 

Jack licked his lips, eyes flitting back and forth as he looked into Pitch's golden ringed eyes. "...thank you. For keeping my nightmares away". He pouted. "Although I'm not sure I appreciate waking me up in the middle of the night to show me that your watching me sleep". 

Pitch smiled, his whole face transforming and Jack couldn’t help but smile back, the light in Pitch's eyes infectious.  

The smile dropped from Jack's face. "Is it true?...about...about the follower? What he did to you?". 

Pitch also stopped smiling, his expression becoming pained, Jack feeling a swell in his chest in response. He hesitated then raised his hand from under the covers, letting Pitch see what he was doing and giving him the opportunity to back out if he wanted to. Gently, he trailed the backs of his fingers down Pitch's temple then cheek, feeling the soft, silkiness underneath his hand, not quite flesh but no longer just stone or shadow.   

"I'm sorry" Jack said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry he hurt you. But...if he'd never had done that then...maybe...we'd never had met and I...". Jack closed his eyes, feeling ridiculous. "What I'm trying to say is that I-". 

His eyes flew open as soft lips pressed against his, swallowing his words. With Pitch's eyes closed, all Jack could see was darkness but he could feel him there, the tip of his nose brushing against Jack's, his lips pressed soft but firm. As he moved his mouth over Jack's, Jack lidded his eyes, hesitantly kissing back. A sudden shyness over took him, which felt ridiculous because c'mon, he'd jacked off all-over his statue's chest for crying out loud.  

But as a hand slid over his hip under the covers, fingers squeezing his flesh lightly through his nightshirt, he shuddered, the shyness slipping away as the hand encouraged him to move closer, shifting his body closer to Pitch as Pitch moved his mouth to kiss him again. 

He put a hand on Pitch's chest as Pitch moved back and broke their kiss, Jack listing forward, trying to follow his lips. He made to protest when Pitch's hand left his hip and instead went to his hair, fingers threading through it soothingly. Instantly, he felt sleepy, a yawn escaping as sleep began to pull at him.  

* * *

 

The next week proceeded in much the same fashion. Each night, he would wake to find Pitch beside his bed, who would soothe him straight back to sleep only to wake in the morning and find the statue more haggard looking than before, its inky blackness now a dirty grey and its smooth surface now full of cracks and fissures.  

His Father, North and the others would worry and wring their hands, wondering at how the statue had undergone such a drastic disfigurement but Jack knew that whatever he told them would be scoffed at and dismissed and so he stayed quiet, feigning ignorance.  

But inside he knew what was happening, what he had suspected was happening for some time. 

Pitch was breaking free. 

As night drew in, Jack looked up at the statue, wondering how long it would before Pitch was completely free and walking the Earth again. Reaching out, he gently swiped the tips of his fingers over one of Pitch's knees, a coat of fine ash like dust clinging to them, as if it had be on fire and the remnants had been pressed into a statue.  

Jack's brows furrowed and his frowned, pouting his lips as he thought about Pitch. If he WAS being set free, did this mean he would go back to being a deity and leave Jack behind? Would the nightmares return if he did leave?  

Would Jack never see him again? 

Wiping his hand on his nightclothes, Jack dismissed the thoughts from his head and went about his nightly ritual. Whatever happened, he would deal with it when the time came.  

 But for now, sleep was waiting for him. 

* * *

 

Jack awoke half-way through the night, oddly alert despite the fact he had been deep asleep, his mind clearing almost instantly as he looked around the darkened room before turning beside him, finding Pitch laid beside him as he was want to do lately. 

As the statue had begun to crumble and lose shape, Pitch's shadow form had become more and more defined, eventually looking almost human instead of moving darkness. Jack could see the details of his face more clearly; his thin but full lips, roman like nose, his long neck that tapered perfectly into broad shoulders. Tonight, he was laid on his front, his arms folded under his head which he laid sideways on, able to watch Jack while sleep while laid comfortably. He smiled, raising his head slightly once he realised Jack was awake, Jack turning to face him, an answering smile on his lips despite the cold feeling of dread he felt in his stomach. Pitch's smiles were always infectious. 

As Pitch moved a hand out from under his head, Jack lifted his own up, stopping Pitch from touching him. Pitch looked at him confused, Jack shuffling forward to be nearer to him, his voice low in the quiet of the night. "I have to talk to you...I know you can't talk back...can't or won't I don’t know but it...it doesn’t matter right now". 

Pitch leaned up fully, looking at Jack with worry and confusion and Jack realised that despite the fact Pitch had never spoken a word to him, he always seemed to be able to decipher how Pitch was feeling or what he was thinking.  

"Its not about me" Jack shook his head, "I'm fine don’t worry". 

Pitch relaxed minutely but the worry didn’t recede from his expression, Jack taking a deep breath before he spoke again. 

"You're breaking free aren't you?...the statue. Its crumbling. That's you...right?". 

Pitch nodded slowly, his brow creasing as he stared at Jack, Jack averting his eyes to look at the statue across the room, shrouded in darkness although not as deeply as it used to be.  

"When it does, will you...what will you do? Are you...are you leaving?" Jack fidgeted under the covers, trying to quell the shakiness in his voice. "I don’t want you to go but if that's how it is I...I can't stop you. You're a god and I'm just...". He sniffled, rubbing at the tears forming in his eyes. "I just...I wanted to say thank you. For taking my nightmares...for...for helping me. I- I promise I wont stop believing in you". He scoffed, looking back up at Pitch. "As if I could now". 

Pitch was looking down at him sadly, Jack averting his eyes again, unable to look at him. When Jack did not continue, Pitch moved closer to him, curling a finger under Jack's chin and urging him to lift it, Jack resisting momentarily before doing so, staring up into Pitch's sun-kissed eyes. As Pitch bent to kiss him, he closed his eyes, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye to roll silently down his cheek as their lips pressed together, Jack meeting him eagerly.  

Pitch pushed a hand beneath Jack, curling it around his waist and resting it on his lower back as his other hand drifted down his neck, over his collarbone then chest, fingers splayed as they slid down over his stomach to settle on his hip. Deepening the kiss, he gently urged Jack onto his back, moving to lay over him, Jack's arms moving to curl around his neck as he moved his hand out from under Jack's back, pushing himself to lay between Jack's legs, Jack adjusting his position to allow him.  

And as Pitch slowly slipped inside of him, Jack gasped, feeling full and wanted yet his chest ached with hurt and the knowledge that Pitch was leaving; that he'd never realised how lonely he was until this moment, when he was about lose Pitch. 

He clung to Pitch's form as they made love, entwining his legs with Pitch's, moving his hips to meet Pitch, wishing it wouldn’t end. 

When he came, it felt too soon and all he could do was bury his head in Pitch's shoulder as Pitch let out a breath by his ear, panting silently in the darkness.  

Jack had no idea how long they stayed like that, curled around each other, but eventually Pitch pulled out from him, Jack whimpering at the loss as well as the ache in his legs and between them. 

Pitch lay on his side, gathering Jack to him as sleep began to press at Jack's mind, Jack fighting it as much as he could. He wanted to be awake when Pitch left, didn’t want to wake up to nothing, but his body had other ideas and his eyes began to drift close as he looked up at Pitch, looking into those beautiful gold-rimmed eyes, committing everything to memory. 

As he began to drift off, he felt fingers thread through his hair and a voice in the darkness of his consciousness.  

 ** _"I'll come back for you Jack"._**  

 ** _"I promise"._**  

* * *

 

The next morning, Jack sat on the edge of his bed, quietly watching as his Father and North carried on a heated discussion, servants rushing to and fro in panic in the midst of it all.  

Pitch was gone. 

And in his absence, the statue had crumbled, turning to dust and rubble. 

Jack looked down at the broken bit of stone in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over the surface of it. He held a perfect piece of what had been Pitch's face, broken around the edges of his hairline and jaw, as if it were nothing more than a very detailed party mask instead of what had once housed a great and powerful deity. It was now a dirty grey, devoid of any magic or life that had been in it, like it could be part of any old statue. 

Jack felt nothing, could neither cry nor rage or anything at all. As happy as he was that Pitch was finally free, he couldn’t help the sadness within him. He felt as hollow as the statue itself and his Father and North could rage and rant all they want but in the end, nothing they could do would fix it. 

Hiding the piece of stone beneath his bed covers, he steeled himself and let his Father lament over their loss and promise him anything under the sun in recompense, as did North. Smiling at their concern for him, Jack assured them that he needed nothing, as the statue had done its job and he was no longer plagued by night terrors. He thanked them both and reassured them that he would be fine, seeing them both out of his room to allow the servants to clean up as best they could. 

He let himself mourn his loss for so long then turned his sadness into resolve, and as Jack began to live his life without the nightmares or the statue, he thought of only one thing. 

 ** _"I'll come back for you"._**  

Jack held onto that promise. 

He'd believed in Pitch this long. 

He would continue to believe in him. 

However long it took. 

* * *

 

**Epilogue.**  

It was the middle of the night, almost two months since the obsidian statue had fallen when Jack was woken, the darkness in his room feeling heavy and full, as if it were alive. 

He blinked blearily, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in bed, trying in vain for his eyes to focus, wondering sleepily what could have woken him. He vaguely thought of an intruder and became more alert, looking around his room as objects slowly came into focus. 

A familiar tug in his chest made him push back the covers, pausing for a moment at the cold air against his warm skin before the tug came again and a feeling of urgency made him get out of bed, quickly crossing the room to the heavy drapes.  

He stopped before the thick fabric, slowly gripping a handful before yanking it back, revealing his window and the empty balcony, the pale moon, round and fat, glowing high up in the night sky, illuminating everything below with an eerie glow.  

Jack sighed in disappointment, letting the curtain fall from his grasp. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he certainly hadn’t expected nothing at all. 

Taking one last lingering look at the moon, he turned to go back to bed and stopped, completely frozen. 

A tall, dark shadow of a man stood beside his bed, the light from the moon illuminating him in such a way that it seemed that every shadow was reaching out to him, to connect with him. His skin was as grey as the stone it had once inhabited and the hair that was swept back and away from his head was black and looked coarse, thick strands streaked here and there with silver. 

But it was only when his eyes opened that Jack grinned, a burst of golden sunlight piercing Jack and making him feel like the whole world had stopped turning, just for a moment.  

Jack took a step toward him, then another and another until he was close enough to touch, close enough to devastate.  

Reaching out slowly, he laid a palm gently on the Nightmare King’s chest, feeling flesh and  warmth beneath his hand, letting out a shaky breath as a tear of joy slid down his cheek. 

“You came back to me...My King” he breathed, his voice hitching when a warm hand covered his, elegant long fingers that he’d kissed and worshipped come to life. 

Pitch Black, the God of Nightmares, looked down at Jack with golden eyes full of love and smiled. 


	2. Alabaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Struggling with writer's block, Pitch Black is gifted with a statue to help him overcome it.
> 
> But is there more to this statue than meets the eye?
> 
> Modern AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *falls down*
> 
> OMG this chapter kicked my ass! The irony of it all was that I was writing about Pitch having a writers block, then actually suffered a writing block myself >_< cruel cruel irony.
> 
> Anyway, this one is a lil less...fairytale, then the last chapter but I still hope everyone enjoys it ^_^

Running a hand agitatedly through his hair, author Kozmotis Pitchiner, also known under the pseudonym Pitch Black to both his fans and friends, slumped forward and rested his head on his desk with a thump!, blowing out a sigh through his teeth in exasperation.

Three weeks.

Three weeks now and he _still_ couldn’t get around his creative block.

Sitting back up, he flumped back into his computer chair and stared at the screen in agitation, chewing the inside of his cheek as he wracked his brains, trying to think of something, ANYTHING.

His most recent and best-selling series, Katerina and the Guardians, was due another book in the series but for the life in him, Pitch could just not reconcile the ending of his latest book with the beginning of the newest one. He’d left the ending open, confident that he’d be able to carry on with his newest book once he’d had a breather from the last.

But now.

Pitch had done everything he could think of to spur on his imagination. He’d written down what the end result of the book would be, tried to plan out specific pieces in future chapters, read through the series of previous novels he’d written, gone for a long walk, procrastinate until even that got boring and there was nothing left to do but to work on his book.

Nothing helped.

Putting a hand to his chin, Pitch tapped his lips with a finger, racking his brains. The story needed _something_ to help carry on the plot. A tragic event maybe? No, he’d already had epic battles and the like in his earlier books.

A new character?

But who? And how would they carry the story? Could he really come up with and fit a new character into the storyline when he was already so far along in the series?

He let out a growl of frustration, a voice clucking in sympathy behind him. “Still stuck huh?”

“Don’t you ever knock anymore?”

Karine, his ex-wife and mother to his beloved 10 year old daughter Seraphina (the main character of his story being an amalgamation of their two names) walked in to the room behind him, leaning down to rest her arms on his shoulders, the point of her chin pressing into the crown of his head as she looked over him at the computer screen. “How long have you been sitting here? Have you eaten at all?”

Pitch pouted, pointing a finger at the screen in annoyance. “I can’t. It’s mocking me”.

Karine hummed in her throat, moving to speak in his ear. “Wanna have sex? That used to get your juices going”.

Pitch snorted derisively, moving in such a manner that Karine was forced to let go and step back, Pitch turning in his seat to face her. “As _thrilled_ as I am by your kind suggestion, I’ll have to politely decline. Besides, I doubt your new beau Manny would be happy to learn you’re shacking up with me; y’know, the guy you left for him?” Pitch linked his fingers and raised his arms over his head, stretching his arms, groaning when the muscles popped pleasantly. “Besides, you don’t move me the same way you used to…not now I know where you’ve been anyway”.

Karine laughed, pushing her long black curls behind her ear. “Oh Pitch, you always get so cranky when you get writer’s block. The statement still stands; you need to get laid if you want this block to go away anytime soon. Your dry spell is clearly affecting your work”.

Pitch’s expression darkened, opening his mouth to retort when Seraphina clattered in, instantly dispelling his foul mood. “Daddy you’re here!”

He opened his arms and she fell into them, both hugging the other tightly. “Hey princess! How are you? How’s school?” he asked, fondly brushing a black ringlet of hair behind her ear, his bundle of joy pulling back so that he could see her wide grin. She had all their positive traits and nothing of their negatives, and while some may brush it off as the opinion of an overly-doting parent, Pitch couldn’t help but think it every time he saw her.

“Daddy come see! We got you a present!” she giggled happily, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt with the enthusiasm only a child could have, Pitch raising an eyebrow at her as he stood.

“Oh? A present you say? Well I better come see then hadn’t I?” he responded warmly, Sera letting go with a whoop of joy at his acquiescence before running off ahead, Pitch casting a more suspicious glance at his ex as they followed. “What have you done now?”

Karine put a hand to her chest in mock outrage. “Pitch! I’m hurt! Despite all we’ve been through you still don’t trust me?” She smirked, shifting her handbag higher onto her shoulder. “Besides I didn’t pick it out…Seraphina insisted we buy it for you”.

Pitch opened his mouth to question but stopped suddenly as they reached the hallway to his apartment, expression turning from questioning to disbelief as a bubble of something he couldn’t name lodged itself in his chest.

A young boy stood beside Seraphina in the hallway.

No.

A statue.

Sera’s grin grew ecstatic as she held out her arms to it in mock boast. “Ta dah! Do you like it?!”

Pitch took a step closer, examining it from head to toe.

The statue was completely white, as if it was carved purely from freshly fallen snow, Pitch lightly touching its shoulder just to see if it actually was snow before pulling his fingers away as if burnt. It was cold, ice cold and the detail was exquisite; from the chiselled detail in the wooden crook it held, to the hair that peeked out from the hood of its cloak that covered its head. The boy was dressed in what seemed like old shepherd boy clothing from medieval times; the shirt was long sleeved, bunching up at the elbows, his trousers were cut off mid-ankle, a strip of ribbon wrapped around the calve of each leg, standing barefoot on the stand it had been attached to. Its hood was attached to a cape that only reached its midriff, covering both its shoulders and tied at its neck with a piece of seemingly worn string. The statue was average height, the top of its head reaching only up to Pitch’s chest, although it was a good head or two above Seraphina. Its pose was relaxed yet confident; legs splayed slightly, a hand on its hip while the other held the staff out to one side, as if the subject of the carving was proud yet bashful they had been chosen to be carved, playing up the role by striking such a pose.

Pitch bent, trying to look under the hood at the statue’s face but could only see the quirk of lips, a mischievous smile on the statues face, its eyes hidden beneath snowy bangs. “How on earth did you manage to get this into my apartment?! It must’ve weighed a ton”.

“Actually, it’s pretty light which surprised us” Karine walked forward, hands on her hips as she looked at the statue, a pleased smile on her face. “We were at a flea market of all places and the guy selling it sold it to us for a pittance. Said he’d be glad to be rid of the thing; apparently since he’s had it, he’s had nothing but trouble”.

“A bad luck charm, just what I need” Pitch huffed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Where on earth do you expect me to put this? My apartments tiny enough as it is!”

“Don’t you like it Daddy?” Seraphina’s smile dropped, looking worriedly up at Pitch who crouched next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“No sweetie I love it, I do” he smiled weakly at her. “It’s just…daddy isn’t sure if he can keep it here that’s all”.

“But Daddy, you can’t get rid of him!” her voice dropped low and sad, shuffling her feet. “He’s lonely…he needs a friend. That’s why we got him for you…so that Daddy won’t be lonely anymore either”.

Pitch’s expression crumpled, looking up helplessly at Karine who held her hands up in mock surrender, a “don’t-look-at-me!” expression on her face. Looking back down at his ball of sunshine, he sighed tiredly, straightening. “Alright alright…I’m sure I can find a proper place for him”.

Sera looked up, her expression changing in a split second, her smile making him feel pleased with his decision. “Yay! Thank you Daddy, I knew you’d like him!” Hugging his middle tightly, she let go and spun on her heel, clasping her hands together happily as she grinned at the statue. “Did you hear that Jack? You get to stay with Daddy! Wait here! I’ll make some hot chocolate!”

Sera disappeared down the hallway, Pitch hearing the flick of a kettle a moment later as he looked at Karine in despair, standing up heavily. “Christ, it has a name already?!”

Karine smiled, pinching his cheek. “C’mon Pitch where’s your sense of fun? Now come have hot chocolate with us and you can move Jack later”. She turned on her heel, following her precocious daughter into the living area, Pitch glancing at the statue once more before following, neither noticing the now widened grin on the boy statue’s face.

* * *

 

Pitch sighed as he sat watching the snow fall from his bay window, a hot mug of coco warming his hands. Karine and Seraphina had stopped for a few hours, Pitch making them all dinner as Seraphina told him about her school work - Karine interrupting with comments from her teachers every so often - Seraphina settling on the living room floor afterwards to play while Pitch and Karine spoke in hushed tones behind her, sorting out who could pick her up from school and when, Pitch only half listening when Karine commented about a new group of friends Seraphina had started playing with at the park after school.

They left soon after, Pitch reluctantly waving goodbye to his daughter, who gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek before waving enthusiastically at Jack and promising that Pitch would take care of him, much to Pitch’s amusement.

Left in the quiet, Pitch had turned to the statue, hands on his hips as his amusement faded to annoyance. “Now where to put you?” he asked aloud, chewing the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the statue, which obviously offered no assistance or answers to his predicament.

Sighing, Pitch looked around the room before deciding on the living room by the bay window, wrapping his arms around the statues middle and bracing himself against the statues weight as he made to pick it up, almost falling over onto his ass when he picked it up, the statue as light as a feather just as Karine had said.

He stared at it in disbelief, wondering how such a lifelike statue could weigh so little then decided it didn’t matter, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dragging it over to the window, he positioned it just next to the bay window seat, something he’d installed himself for storage and space purposes. He’d done the same with the bay window in his bedroom, appreciating the extra storage space as well as the extra seating for indulging in moments such as he was now.

Finding himself steeped in melancholy, he’d done the only thing he could think of and made himself a cup of hot chocolate, taking a seat at the window to watch the snow as it had started to fall outside his apartment, watching the cars and the people as they hurried back to their own homes and families and feeling lonelier than ever.

Moving to lay his head back on the wall, Pitch flinched and sat up straight when something touched his hair, looking around to see the crook of the statues elbow brushing against him lightly. His expression crinkled in annoyance, running fingers through his hair to get rid of the phantom feeling before standing with a heavy sigh, finishing his drink and taking it to the sink, washing out his cup before leaving it to drain on the sideboard, the feeling of melancholia he had felt before dissipating from the statue’s interference.

The snow began to fall heavier outside his window as he stretched, heaving another sigh. “Well, best go try and salvage something” he mumbled to himself, glancing at the statue out of the corner of his eye. “Let’s hope your bad luck isn’t catching hmm?” He blinked then wiped a tired hand over his face. “Great now you’re talking out loud to yourself”. He walked off into his bedroom, flicking off the room light as he went. “Maybe you do need to get laid”.

Taking a seat at his desk, Pitch tried in vain to carry on but after two hours he threw his pen on the desk in frustration, his mind stubbornly refusing to co-operate.

Feeling like he had hot sand in his eyes, Pitch rubbed at them, putting his computer on stand-by as he stood, grabbing his notebook and pen from the desk and putting them on his bedside table instead, moving into his en-suite bathroom to quickly brush his teeth and wash his face before bed.

As he moved back into his bedroom, a glint in his peripheral made him look to his left, blinking in surprise. Bathed in the glow of the winter moon, the statue of Jack seemed to shine brightly, like the surface of freshly fallen snow; almost blinding, brilliant white, like it was made of nothing but light. It stood proudly in Pitch’s living room as if it would spring to life at any moment and Pitch stared at it for a long moment; convinced that it would if he watched long enough.

Feeling foolish and more than a little exhausted, he yawned loudly, waving a hand at Jack. “Night then. Try to keep the hi-jinks to a minimum hmm?” he chuckled, climbing into bed and turning off the bedside lamp, encasing his bedroom in shadows. Nothing but total darkness could put Pitch to sleep and already he felt relaxed; could feel the stress and frustrations of the day seep away as sleep came to claim their place instead.

_He dreamt of images filled with pure white; clouds and snow and soft feather like hair. A breath of laughter in his ear, bare feet on snow, a coldness that wasn’t unpleasant but seeped into his skin, down to his bones and stayed there; a slight form that raced ahead, never moving too far but always just tantalizingly out of reach._

He awoke the next morning, refreshed and bursting with ideas, quickly jotting down what he remembered in his journal before he sprang out of bed, eagerly washing and dressing before wolfing down breakfast, making himself a cup of coffee before taking a seat at his desk, hands moving in a flurry as he made notes, improved upon them, made them coherent.

So busy was Pitch that morning that he failed to notice the smug, self-satisfied grin now adorning Jack’s statue.

* * *

 

“Daddy?”

Pitch gnawed at the end of his pencil, making a noise of frustration before erasing what was on his pad, sighing heavily when the paper tore. “What’s wrong sweetie?”

 “Can I draw too?”

Pitch ripped the torn piece from his drawing pad, looking up at Sera standing in the doorway to his bedroom. “Of course honey…do you need paper? Some pencils?”

Sera shook her head, her black ringlets bouncing. “Just some paper please, I have my pencil case from school” she replied, walking further into the room as Pitch bent to the lower drawer of his desk, removing a pad of paper that he kept specifically for Seraphina. She bit her lip as he handed it to her, her eyes pleading as he smiled at her. “Will you come draw with me in the living room?”

Pitch hesitated, tapping his pencil on his pad. He’d made great progress over the weekend, managing to write a basic plotline for the story and his newest character. It was now Monday and after picking up Seraphina from school, Pitch had quickly thrust together dinner before delving back into his work, intent on drawing up his new character and giving them a name, maybe even cobbling together a backstory to slide into the plotline later.

But as usual, Sera had a way of being able to twist Pitch to her wants and he smiled in defeat, stretching as he stood up from his chair. “Sure thing buttercup, go put the kettle on and I’ll come and join you ok?”

Sera smiled radiantly, trotting off back into the living room as Pitch gathered his things, following her into the living room and joining her on the floor next to the coffee table, leaning back against the bottom of the sofa. Sera smiled as he opened his pad, opening her own multi-coloured pencil case and digging through it, pulling out a mechanical pencil and an eraser that might as well have been a nub.

The room filled with silence as the two artists worked, the only sound being the kettle as it began to boil, rattling around on it perch. Pitch tapped his pencil against his mouth, his thoughts racing. Almost all of his main characters were based on people he knew or that had been involved in his life in some-way. The main character, Katerina, was based on his daughter, her name being an amalgamation of both Seraphina and Karine’s names, although her personality was based primarily from Sera. His editor slash brother Sandy and long-time friend North were both in the books as guiding influences for Katerina, as was Karine and her new beau Manny.

And who better to play the villain turned some-what anti-hero but himself?

Other characters he had developed over time, each coming to him in their own separate ways but this felt…different. The character he had seen in his dreams that had inspired him so felt familiar and yet he knew no one of the sort.

His brow furrowed as he stared at the blank paper, only just managing to hold back a growl.

“What’s wrong Daddy?”

Pitch started, turning to Sera, who had looked up from her own half finished work. He smiled and patted her hand reassuringly, putting down his pencil as he stood up from the table. “It’s nothing star-shine…Daddy’s just having trouble thinking of what to draw is all” he sighed as he made them both drinks - hot chocolate with whipped cream for her, black coffee for him – before returning to the table, sipping at his drink, Seraphina eating the whipped cream with a spoon daintily, a thoughtful look on her face.

Pitch pursed his lips, glancing at Sera’s drawing. “What about you? What’re you drawing?”

“Just me and some friends playing”. She sucked obnoxiously on her spoon before turning to a fresh page in her pad, pushing it towards him. “Can you draw for me, Dad?”

Pitch smiled, setting down his cup and taking the pad. “Sure honey, what would you like?”

Sera paused, taking a look around the room before pausing, pointing at the statue. “Draw Jack for me?”

Pitch’s smile grew then froze, blinking in realisation as he turned to look at the statue, his grip tightening on his pencil. “Jack…”

The statue seemed to smile down at him in glee from its place by the window, rays of the mid-winter sun filtering around it like a halo as he looked at it, thoughts racing through his head.

Grabbing Seraphina around the shoulders, he pulled her in, giving her a chaste kiss on the top of her head, Sera squealing indignantly. “Daddy?!”

“Princess, Daddy will draw for you in a minute, he just needs to do a couple of things first ok!?” Pitch stood hurriedly, running into his room and grabbing other supplies before returning, sitting on the sofa with his own pad as he proceeded to sketch furiously, his eyes darting from the statue back to his pad every other moment.

Sera watched, both confused and fascinated before shrugging, drinking the last of her hot chocolate before moving to put on a DVD and wait for her mom to pick her up.

* * *

 

Pitch yawned, furiously scrubbing at his eyes as he put in another sheaf of paper into the copier, scanning his drawings onto his computer and cleaning them up some-what before adding them to a separate document, taking the pages out from the copier and carefully storing them away with the others once he was finished.

He clicked back onto his email message, adding the now copied scans onto the attachments, along with the first three chapters of his new book, typing in a quick message to Sandy that he would clean them up once he was nearing completion of the book so that they could be added to the final press.

Once he’d clicked send, he sighed heavily, interlinking his fingers and raising his arms over his head to stretch, a moan of pleasure escaping him at the pull and relief he felt in his muscles and spine. How long had he been hunched over his desk like this?

Looking at the clock, Pitch blinked when he saw it was almost three a.m., spying his untouched and now stagnant cup of coffee on the desk top with a grimace. He flopped back in his chair, clicking closed his email inbox and onto his newest chapter, which he was half-way through and began to type, the words which had been so hard to type earlier now flowing effortlessly through him. He ignored the ache in his eyes and back, intent on getting to a natural stopping point, wiping a hand over his face tiredly as he re-wrote his sentence, satisfaction flooding through him as the words un-jumbled themselves into something more tangible.

A cool breeze drifted at the back of his neck, making Pitch shiver, rubbing at the nape of his neck to dispel goose-bumps. He let his head flop back as his rub turned into a grip, realising how stiff his neck was.

He closed his eyes as another cool, refreshing breeze drifted over his face, vaguely wondering where it was coming from. Hadn’t he closed the windows earlier?

A feeling came over him, like cool fingers resting on his forehead, comforting and caring, Pitch listing back in his seat as a voice spoke to him. _“Go to bed Pitch”._

Pitch opened his eyes, sitting up straight in his chair, looking around the room wild-eyed. That voice…where had it come from?

He licked his lips, a sudden thirst coming over him as he held his head in his hands, despairing slightly. Was he really so sleep-deprived that he was imagining voices?

Huffing a laugh, Pitch saved then double-saved his work before putting his computer on sleep mode, stretching once more before standing and going into the bathroom, grabbing a glass of water and using the facilities before heading to his bed, draining his glass dry before undressing, letting his clothes puddle on the floor as he slid under the covers, sighing at the coolness that embraced him as he relaxed into the covers.

_He dreamed again of white, so vast and encompassing and yet there was no coldness, no bitterness seeping into his bones. It felt more like a friend, welcoming him with open arms after so long apart and how strange was that? He looked down to find himself bare foot in the snow, taking a step forward and expecting a bite of icy pain but feeling nothing. He heard laughter, children’s laughter, high-pitched and full of joy, shrieks of surprise and indignity peppering the air but could see nothing when he looked around, completely alone in this land of snow and warmth._

_His hand was suddenly gripped, Pitch blinking at the hand that was latched onto him, tugging him impatiently to follow. He turned, expecting to see Seraphina but was surprised to find himself following the form of a skinny young man, leading him towards a dense forest, surprisingly strong for someone so slight._

_Pitch tugged at his hand half-heartedly but offered no resistance when the boy pulled more insistently, their bare feet making only the faintest crunch as they walked. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice sounding distant and faraway._

_The boy turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes hidden beneath snowy white bangs, a gleaming wide smile on his face._

“Daddy wake up!!”

Pitch started awake as a weight landed on top of him, blinking blearily as the lively form of his daughter appeared in his vision. “Sera?”

“Daddy you’re so silly! You slept in! You need to get up and take me to school remember?” she bounced on his bed as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Karine stood beside the bed looking down at him with worry and annoyance.

“Were you up all night again and forgot? It’s your turn to take her to school today remember? It’s a good thing I came up with her instead of dropping her at the door”. She leaned forward, the back of her hand touching his forehead in concern. “You don’t look too good…are you coming down with something?”

Pitch batted her hand away, yawning loudly. “It’s nothing, I’m fine…I can’t believe my alarm didn’t go off…” Stumbling out of bed, he went to his bathroom, brushing his teeth quickly and splashing his face with cold water before dressing, Karine watching him with unease, biting her lower lip, Seraphina having already moved into the living room.

“Just don’t forget to pick her up after school…she’ll be at the park with her friends, so go there instead of picking her up at the gates ok?”

Pitch made a noise of acknowledgement, Karine furrowing her brow but letting the matter slide. “I’ll pick her up later this evening…if anything comes up, I’ll give you a call, but I shouldn’t be too late…you have dinner sorted?”

“Yes yes, let’s just get moving already” Pitch replied absently, ushering them both to the front door, picking up his keys as they passed the living room.

“Bye Jack! See you after school!” Seraphina called out, Pitch rolling his eyes in amusement as they left, neither of the adults noticing the new position of the statue, waving goodbye as the door closed behind them.

* * *

 

It took Pitch almost a whole day to notice but once he had, he couldn’t look away, examining it from every angle he could and arguing with himself that it couldn’t be right, his mind was playing tricks on him.

The statue had moved.

But that wasn’t possible…was it?

Pitch stood in front of the statue, tapping his foot irritably on the floor, one arm folded across the other, the crook of his index finger on his chin as he frowned at the statue.

The position hadn’t changed, the statue still in the same cocky pose it had been in when it had first been brought into his home.

But the hood that had covered its head was down, revealing incredibly real, soft-looking locks of hair that stuck out from the crown of its head, although its eyes were still maddeningly hidden by the bangs.

Pitch’s frown deepened, pursing his lips as he stared at it, eyes starting to blur from the strain. He was so sure, _so sure,_ that the hood had been up, covering its head when he’d first seen it. It can’t have moved, surely not.

But then how…

Running a hand tiredly over his face and through his hair, Pitch grabbed his phone from the table top, checking the time and swearing loudly when he saw that school hours had finished almost more than an hour ago, rushing to grab his things before he barrelled out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

He drove as fast as he could towards Sera’s school, cursing that the alarm he had set to remind him an hour before had been set to vibrate instead of ringing out, a litany of curses spilling out of him as he narrowly avoided pedestrians and other motorists before pulling up in front of the school gates, panic welling up inside him when he found it deserted, the school gates shut and padlocked.

Biting his lip, Pitch tapped his finger against the steering wheel, thinking back to that morning, to Sera jumping on him and Karine had said…

The park.

Indicating to get back on the road, Pitch pulled back into traffic and headed towards the public park, the bubble of panic in his chest bursting with relief when he spotted her long luscious black curls bouncing as she ran, her dark green coat contrasting against the snowy backdrop, Pitch hearing her tell-tale shriek of happiness as a snowball hit her on the shoulder, exploding in a shower of white dust.

Pulling into a parking space, he sagged with relief against the steering wheel, blowing out a long, deep breath before opening the door, partially getting out of the car and honking the horn, the sound making the children stop in their tracks and look towards the sound. Sera waved towards him, running to her bag, dropped in a pile with others nearby, hauling it onto her shoulder as she ran to greet him, waving at her friends. “Bye guys! See you tomorrow!”

A chorus rang out behind her, a couple of the children waving after her when a long spindly arm stuck up from the snow to wave, the boy it belonged to struggling to sit up before he shouted in delight as the other kids dog-piled him, laughing in vicious glee as he was drowned in small bodies and snow.

Sera smiled at Pitch as she caught up to him and got into the car, her nose and cheeks rosy red with exertion and the cold. “Daddy you’re late! Jack was getting worried you wouldn’t show but I told him you would!”

Pitch smiled indulgently, ruffling her hair affectionately. “I wouldn’t never leave you hanging sweetness. And since when did you and the statue start gossiping behind my back?”

Sera giggled. “No Daddy! Jack’s one of my friends from the park! He’s Mary’s older brother and Jamie’s next door neighbour. I named the statue after him because they’re both really tall and skinny. He’s older than us but he plays with us after school and buys us hot chocolate”. Sera sighed, her voice dreamy as she fiddled with her gloves. “He has really blue eyes and is really good at making snowmen and playing at snowball fights. I wish he was my neighbour”.

Pitch cocked an eyebrow at Sera, clutching at the steering wheel uncomfortably as he drove and making a mental note to quiz Karine on when exactly his precious daughter started developing crushes and whether or not he should be worried about a boy named “Jack”.

* * *

 

Pitch yawned and stretched in his seat as he finished typing, saving then double-saving his work before putting his computer on sleep-mode before grabbing his sketch pad and pencils, moving into the living room and flopping onto the couch.

Sera and Karine had left earlier, Pitch barely noticing their departure, so engrossed with his work he’d barely looked up from the screen as Sera had reached up, struggling to plant a kiss goodbye on his cheek before leaving, looking slightly downhearted while Karine looked on in concern.

Flipping to a clean page, Pitch began to sketch roughly, chancing a glance at the statue of Jack, his pencil scratching a line down the centre of his sketch as he jolted in surprise, staring at it.

It had moved. Again.

The hood was now back up over the statues head but now the statues pose had changed; instead of standing with his legs spread, the statues legs were now crossed, one foot resting on the ball of the foot and toes, the statues itself now bent slightly towards him, as if leaning some of its weight on the staff.

Slowly, Pitch laid his things to one side, rubbing his eyes in disbelief before looking back at it.

Nope, still there.

Shit.

What the hell was going on?

“…Jack?” he asked aloud, feeling ridiculous for saying it but also worried that it might actually answer him.

Of course, the statue did not answer, only a measure of the tension easing from Pitch’s shoulders. He barked out a laugh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, wiping his face in despair. “I’m going crazy…the stress is worse than I thought” he said aloud, moving to close his sketchbook, setting it aside on the coffee table before getting it up. “No more for tonight…I definitely need to sleep more” he reasoned, laughing again in spite. “Annnnd I’m still talking to myself…out loud. No wonder I’m going crazy”.

Walking into his bedroom, Pitch stretched and took off his pants, forgoing his nightly ritual and climbing straight into bed, turning off the light and burying his face into his pillow.

_He was laid on his back, staring up at white fluffy clouds as they floated aimlessly above him, snow drifting lightly down, adding to the stark whiteness. Pitch lifted up a hand, reaching up towards the sky, feeling little light wet patches as the snowflakes melted against his skin, before he let his arm fall back to his side, wondering at the way he could touch and lay in the snow and not be frozen or soaking wet._

_Feeling a presence nearby, he blinked and looked to his left, the young skinny boy from his earlier dream lying splayed out next to him, in the process of making a snow angel. The boy giggled and turned to look at Pitch, a wide grin on his face despite the fact his eyes were still concealed by his bangs, Pitch now completely sure that the boy in his dreams and the boy statue in his living room were one and the same._

_“Jack”._

_‘Jack’ grinned, sitting up and crawling over to Pitch who lay motionless on the snow, straddling his body, Pitch expecting to feel embarrassed at the action but yet feeling nothing, strangely numb. His eyes roved over ‘Jack’s’ features, wanting to reach up and smooth back his unruly hair, finding himself unable to move, ‘Jack’s’ wide grin turning into a soft smile as he booped Pitch’s nose playfully._

_Pitch swallowed loudly. “Why are you here? Is it my work? Am I not…writing, fast enough? Is it not good enough?” He let out a dry laugh. “Like you’d even understand what I’m talking about. Even I don’t understand what I’m talking about.”_

_‘Jack’s’ grin faded, looking down at Pitch with an expression of concern, moving a hand to run his fingers gently down Pitch’s temple and cheek. He leaned in, pressing his body fully into Pitch’s and wrapping his arms around Pitch’s neck as much as he could, pushing his face into the crook of Pitch’s neck._

_Pitch blinked down at the tufts of white hair he could see, somehow managing to summon the strength to move his arms, wrapping them loosely around ‘Jack’s’ waist, the two of them hugging as they laid in the snow, Pitch staring up at the endless white above him._

_“I think I’m going crazy”._

_‘Jack’ moved, leaning back slightly to look down at Pitch once more before lowering his head, planting a kiss on Pitch’s lips._

_Pitch inhaled sharply, the searing cold and taste of ‘Jack’ and his action surprising him. He tasted like the sweetness of cold; mint and the cold burn of ice moving through his mouth, pouring down his throat and touching his lungs, sub-zero spots in the bottom of his ribs, as if he was drinking ice water._

_Closing his eyes, he reciprocated, a hand sliding over ‘Jack’s’ back to rest between his shoulders, becoming more and more comfortable with the feel of the cold as they kissed, his grip tightening as ‘Jack’ deepened the kiss, arousal growing inside him, seeping in as much as the cold did._

_He let out a gasp for air, ‘Jack’ moving to capture his mouth once more, moving his body against Pitch’s, the feel of it spurring on Pitch’s want._

_His hand began to slide down of its own accord, moving from Jack’s waist down to his lower back and then on to his…._

Pitch awoke with a gasp, eyes fluttering as he stared up at the ceiling, the sheets clutched tightly in his hands. He panted, letting go of one of the sheets to put a hand to his forehead, his lungs feeling like they were on fire. He groaned, wiping the hand over his face, slowing down his breathing.

“What the hell…”

His voice sounded so loud in the room, moving to grab his phone and check the time when he felt something strange, moving the covers to look underneath and groaning in annoyance when he found his boxers sticky with mess.

“Seriously? What are you, sixteen?” he mumbled to himself, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and removing his soiled boxers, throwing them and his t-shirt into the hamper before moving into the bathroom, showering and brushing his teeth then drying off and moving back into his room to change, figuring he might as well make a start to the day.

As he exited the bedroom, intent on chugging at least three cups of solid black coffee before he did anything more, Pitch glanced at the statue of Jack in his peripheral, starting and turning swiftly to fully face it, a strangled gasp escaping.

The statue was now crouched down on its haunches, a cheeky grin on Jack’s face and his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

Pitch stumbled back into the counter, eyes widened in fright, slapping a hand over his mouth as he fought against the horror he felt. He stared at the statue a moment longer than hurriedly grabbed his essentials, practically running from the room, the slam of the front door loud behind him.

* * *

 

“I think I’m going crazy”

“Well, you look like shit”.

Pitch raised a shaky hand to his mouth, taking a long pull of his cigarette then exhaling heavily, running a hand over his hair, Karine raising an eyebrow at him as she took a sip of her scalding hot coffee. “Pitch, this whole book thing is clearly having a detrimental effect on you…are you sleeping at all?”

Pitch laughed, only mildly hysterical before he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, pushing it away from him, Karine’s expression turning from confused sympathy to annoyance. After he’d left, Pitch had stayed away from his apartment for several hours, walking all around the city before Karine had called, asking him why he wasn’t at home. He’d gone back, trying to explain to her why he’d left in the first place, the two entering the apartment only to find the statue as it was normally. Pitch had been speechless, stuttering to explain before he’d given up, Karine making them both a drink before she sat him down, trying to keep him calm.

“Look, if you’re not in a fit state of mind, then maybe Seraphina should stop coming by after school…just until the book’s finished and your heads back on straight” Karine reasoned, Pitch looking at her in surprise.

“NO! No, no please I…she helps. She’s a breath of fresh air”. Pitch drank more of his tepid coffee, swirling the liquid in the cup half-heartedly. “Maybe you’re right…I’ll talk to Sandy, see if I can push the deadline back a bit”.

Karine laid a hand over his, squeezing reassuringly. “Please do…I hate seeing you like this, although you were never this bad when we were still together”. She glanced at the statue. “Is it really bothering you that much? Do you want me to take it back to mine? Sera might be upset, but if she realises she gets to see it more at mine, she might be more optimistic about it”.

Pitch hesitated, following her gaze to the statue. Despite the fact that so much crazy shit seemed to be happening because of it, he felt a strange reluctance to part with it. Knowing it was for the best, he sighed. “Please. Maybe you and Sera can take it with you tomorrow?”

Karine smiled reassuringly and patted his arm. “Sure. You go get some more rest, I’ll pick Sera up from school tonight ok? And call if you need anything ok?”

Pith smiled back weakly as she drained her cup, patting his hand once more before standing, putting her empty cup next to the sink to be washed before giving him a chaste kiss on his temple, quietly closing the front door behind her as she left. Picking up his phone, Pitch fired off a quick text to Sandy, pleading exhaustion then pushed the phone into his jeans pocket before wiping his hands tiredly over his face, deciding to take Karine’s advice for once and take a quick nap.

Studiously ignoring the statue, Pitch went to his bedroom and pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the midday light before taking off his shoes and jeans, slipping under the covers and burying his face into his pillow, chasing oblivion.

_Snow whirled around him, biting and endless, Pitch unable to see anything around him. He turned in a circle, looking for anything but found nothing, biting his lip in frustration, the wind picking up slightly. Setting his shoulders, he began to trudge through the snow, holding a hand up to his brow to shield against the onslaught of snow that whipped around him._

_A presence behind him made him stop in his tracks, turning to look back to see ‘Jack’ stood behind him, looking completely unaffected by the raging storm, his mouth creased in concern._

_Pitch blinked at him then glared, his expression twisting as he pointed a finger accusingly in ‘Jacks’ direction. “You…ever since you came to me, I’ve had nothing but trouble! I was already struggling but now I…I don’t know what’s happening to me!” His expression turned pained, wrapping his arms around himself, looking out into the bleakness around them. “Writing was my joy…it took away the pain of losing my wife, my daughter, of being lonely…gave me something to throw myself into, to share a little piece of myself with the world. I liked it dammit! And you’ve ruined it!” His expression turned cold as he looked back at ‘Jack’. “But it’s fine…the girls are taking you and you’ll be out of my hair and I can finally…”_

_The wind howled, whipped to a frenzy as Pitch turned his back to ‘Jack’ and began to walk away, each step as laborious as the last as the snow began to thicken under his feet._

_“Please”._

_Pitch stopped, eyes wide, the immense snowstorm dying almost instantly into an eerie calm, snow dust falling in its place, as if the storm had never even happened. He spun, staring at ‘Jack’ who hadn’t moved an inch. “You…you…”_

_“Please…don’t…”_

_Despite his lips never moving, the voice Pitch heard was clear, light as a bell and sincere in its pleading. His eyes widened as a tear escaped down ‘Jacks’ cheek, turning to frost as before it even reached his cheek._

_Pitch’s brow creased, a heavy sadness weighing him down inside as he shook his head. “I’m sorry…I can’t…”_

_‘Jacks’ expression crumbled, bowing his head as he slumped down…_

Then Pitch woke up.

* * *

 

Pitch methodically rubbed at the dirty plate in his hand with a sponge, feeling strangely numb. Since waking up from his nap, he’d tried to throw himself back into his work…only to be met with nothing. No spark of inspiration, no words trying to escape his mind like water in cupped hands, no urge to draw detailed and vivid images that leapt from his imagination onto the page before him.

Absolutely nothing.

Later, he’d gone to bed, putting it down to stress and the strange dream throwing him off, only to wake up the next morning still the same. He’d re-read what he’d already written, tried to force the words but ended deleting most of what he’d written. He turned to drawing, trying to draw inspiration from the view of his bedroom window, only to be met by frustration, almost snapping his pencil in anger and giving it up as a bad job, a futile effort.

It was only as he’d travelled to pick up Sera from school that he considered that it might be a direct effect from his dream, his confrontation with ‘Jack’ and subsequent dismissal of him.

Had ‘Jack’ been his muse all along? Was it really his influence that had spurred Pitch on?

But the things he’d seen….

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as Sera got into the car, smiling tiredly at her as she greeted him, her tone slightly reserved. He tried to make conversation with her, only to give up when he received stilted replies, concentrating on the road instead. The rest of the evening was much the same; Sera barely spoke two words with him, eating her dinner despondently, pushing the food around her plate until Pitch could no longer take it and questioned her directly.

Sera looked up at him morosely. “Are you really getting rid of Jack, Daddy?”

Oh.

Pitch pushed his empty plate to one side, trying not to let his fatigue show. “…Just for a little while darling. It won’t be for long. Just until Daddy finishes his latest work…”

Sera’s face crumbled more-so. “But Daddy, Jack was a present for you! To stop you being lonely without me here! Don’t you like him?”

Pitch held back a sigh, running a hand awkwardly through his hair. “Of course I do sweetie, but he’s…very distracting, and Daddy needs to work. But hey! He’ll be coming home with mommy and you, wont that be fun? You can see him all the time then” he reasoned, his tone light as he smiled at her, chucking her under the chin gently with his finger.

Sera’s eyes darted back and forth, searching his expression before she lowered her head, nodding minutely as she finished her dinner, Pitch letting her leave the table in silence as he began to clear up after them both, unsure of what to do, feeling conflicted by it all.

Since ‘Jack’ had arrived, Pitch had been struck by inspiration almost every day, his writing almost flawless in its delivery and his drawings vivid and eye-catching. But along with that stimulus, came peculiar dreams; his mind playing tricks on him at every turn, making him see things that weren’t really there.

Like ‘Jacks’ statue moving.

Pitch sighed and pulled the plug, watching the water as it swirled down the drain and out of sight, feeling his motivation do the same. He went to put on the kettle when he heard a low mumbling, creeping to the doorway and looking around it to find Sera sat in front of ‘Jack’, a plastic teapot in between them alongside a small plate filled with mini marshmallows, a cup and saucer placed at both their feet.

“I’m sorry Jack…Mommy said you need to come home with us for a while…Daddy needs to…to do his work. That it’s important”. She picked up her cup, swirling the imaginary liquid slowly as she looked down at it. “I wish you could stay and keep Daddy company…he’s always alone and I think he gets sad sometimes when I have to go home with Mommy. I know Daddy’s work makes people happy but I…I don’t like it. It makes him lonelier, even when I’m here. I thought you could change that”. She looked up at the statue, sighing as she rested her head in the palm of her hand, her elbow on her knee. “I don’t want Daddy to be sad anymore”.

Pitch pulled back, leaning against the counter, sighing heavily, a heavy feeling in his stomach.

His daughter, his precious, beautiful ray of sunshine…all this time, she was thinking of him.

And what had he been doing? Wallowing, getting lost behind his imagination, behind his work, burrowing himself in an imaginary world and driving himself half-crazy with it. Blaming Jack, a statue, his muse.

He was better than this.

Giving himself a small shake, Pitch made himself and Sera a mug of hot chocolate, top with whipped cream and chocolate powder and walked into the living room, clearing his throat slightly to grab her attention. “’Scuse me Ma’am, may I join you?”

Sera looked up, eyes widening at the pro-offered drink, nodding slightly as Pitch carefully sat beside her, handing Sera her drink as he crossed his legs. “I hope you don’t mind but, I think I’d like Jack to stay here a little longer…if that’s ok with you?” he asked, popping one of the mini marshmallows into his mouth.

Sera blinked at him, scooping up some of the cream with her spoon. “Really? I thought-“

Pitch shrugged and looked up at ‘Jack’. “He’s had a timeout…I think that’s sufficient punishment for misbehaving while Daddy’s working don’t you?” Pitch raised an eyebrow at her, a conspiratorial grin on his face as he spoke, Sera’s grin slowly widening in response, giggling as Pitch took a dainty sip of his drink, ending up with a whipped cream moustache and a dot on the end of his pointed nose.

They’re impromptu tea-party ended with marshmallows strewn over the couch in lieu of glitter being thrown and a themed paper crown made and worn by each person who attended (Jack’s was made by Sera as he was too clumsy to do it himself or so was the explanation given), Karine walking into the apartment with raised eyebrows at the mess that greeted her, as well as the sight of father and daughter giggling together, each trying to tickle fight the other into submission (Sera was winning of course).

After dispelling Karine’s fears and assuring her that no, he wasn’t getting rid of ‘Jack’, yes he was quite sure but thank you for the offer, he kissed and hugged Sera tightly, waving them both off with a smile and feeling lighter than he had for a long time.

As he began to clean up the mess, Pitch paused in front of ‘Jack’, looking up at him before sighing, putting a hand on ‘Jack’s’ chest. “I’m…I’m sorry Jack…I got so caught up in my writing and my determination that I…it took losing your inspiration and Sera’s sadness to see that I…I wasn’t being grateful. For the things, the people, around me. I should’ve made time for her, should’ve…well heh, I’ve learned my lesson. Everything in moderation hey? Can’t believe I forgot something so base…”

He looked up at Jack, running his thumb over the smooth stone work. “Thank you…For inspiring me. For…helping me when I couldn’t help myself. If nothing else you’ve certainly made my life more interesting” he laughed at his own self-deprecating joke, standing up and laying his hand on ‘Jack’s’ shoulder. “So…how about you keep the hi-jinks to a minimum and I’ll…I’ll remember to keep sight of the important things…deal?”

Despite the lack of response, Pitch smiled, patting Jack’s shoulder as he turned to clear away the rest of the mess. As he bent to pick up the left over paper from his crafts with Sera, he shivered, a phantom feeling of arms around his neck, a slight weight on his back, cool lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

_“Thank you”._

Pitch blinked and turned to look at ‘Jack’, the feeling gone just as soon as it came, staring at the statue for a long moment before smiling, carrying on with his task before eventually sitting down with his planner and phone, working out a feasible schedule before deciding that he’d done enough for the day and hitting the hay.

* * *

 

The next few weeks progressed smoothly as Pitch pushed himself to stick to his schedule, diligently sticking to the times he had set for himself; waking at a reasonable time, breakfast before working, an hours break for dinner and to stretch his legs before going back to work, breaking off to pick up Sera from school and spending several hours with her doing something fun and/or relaxing before Karine took her home, then working until bed time, setting himself a reasonable time to stop that meant he would get a few decent hours to sleep. It was paying off too; Karine commented that Sera had been happier since they had begun to do more together, Pitch noticing that he also felt content, more himself than he had been for long.

‘Jack’ seemed to be keeping his promise as well; Pitch’s dreams filled with nothing but whiteness that was refreshing, a presence in the back of his mind, comforting and soothing all at once, Pitch waking each morning feeling well rested.

Pitch smiled as he sat with Sera between his legs, a bowl of popcorn between hers as they watched her chosen movie, Pitch ruffling her hair affectionately as he took a few pieces as he revelled in the sense of normalcy, only half paying attention to the film as Sera flicked her hair in objection, snorting in indignation. Pitch smirked, doing it again, making it messier, Sera squawking as she struggled to move out of his lap and hold onto the popcorn at the same time. “Daddy! Stop it! The popcorn!” she laughed, Pitch delighting in the sound of it, of her happiness.

“I do beg your pardon my lady” he said, faux-solicitously, a smirk on his face as she playfully pouted up at him. “I meant to…tickle you instead!” He dug his fingers gently into her ribs, Sera squealing as she descended into giggles, kicking her legs as she struggled not to tip the popcorn on the floor.

“Wait! Wait wait time out!”

Pitch paused, watching as Sera sat up, primly putting the bowl of popcorn on the table and smoothing out her hair before quickly turning and grabbing a pillow from the sofa, hitting him square in the face. “Ack! Foul! No weapons allowed!”

Sera squealed with laughter as she squirmed off Pitch’s lap and kneeled next to him, batting him again and again with the pillow, Pitch laughing as he tried to fend her off, grabbing his own pillow as he batted back, doing a half-somersault roll onto the floor and knowing that he would regret the action in the morning.

Turning, Pitch threw his pillow at Sera, Sera shrieking as it bounced off her shoulder, throwing her own in retaliation, the movie forgotten as their fight escalated.

Grabbing a discarded pillow before Sera could reach for it, Pitch swung it behind him, readying it to launch at Sera when it hit something behind him, Sera’s smile dropping from her face almost as quick as his own.

He turned to see the statue wobbling behind him, the world seemingly slowing down as he dropped the pillow, turning and reaching towards it, trying to stop its descent.

His fingers scraped the side of Jack’s head as it fell, smooth stone scratching against his nails before gravity did its job, an almighty crash thundering in Pitch’s ears as he stared down at the devastation before him.

The statue was completely decimated, shattered pieces scattered across the floor like lumps of snow, Pitch unable to believe what he was seeing. Hearing a noise he looked up, Sera covering her mouth with both hands in horror, eyes widened and shining with unshed tears. She looked up at him then back down at the pieces, slowly sinking to her knees on the couch. “Jack…”

Pitch waved at her, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “Stay…stay on the couch Sera…you…I don’t want you to get hurt”.

Sera nodded weakly, unable to tear her eyes away as Pitch fought against the emotion welling in his chest, tiptoeing as best he could through the wreckage and into the kitchen, searching for the dustpan and brush, grabbing a trash bag before making his way back into the room.

He slowly sunk to his knees, picking up the bigger bits of stone and placing them gently into the bag before sweeping up the smaller bits into a pile, brushing them into the pan then tipping them into the bag, working in silence, his body numb as the wreck that had been Jack was slowly cleaned away before there was nothing left by a chalky white mark on the floor where the statue had hit.

He sat quietly for a moment before turning to look at Sera, who’s knees were pulled up to her chest, her face buried in them. Sadness creased his brow as Pitch went to her, sitting beside her and pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry Sera it…it was…was an accident…” he murmured as Sera burrowed her face in his shoulder, her own shaking as she quietly sobbed, clutching his shirt tightly in her fist.

Karine entered an hour later to find them still embracing on the couch, her face a mask of confusion as she took in their stricken expressions.

* * *

 

Pitch sighed heavily as he finished typing and saved, then double saved before sitting back in his chair, staring at the screen.

It was finally done. His newest book finally had an end.

It had been a couple of weeks since Jack’s statue had been broken and although Pitch had had no problems continuing his work, there was an acute feeling of loss deep inside him. He knew Sera felt it too; even though she had gradually gotten over her initial upset, he had seen her stare at the place where Jack once stood, a distant and sad look passing over her expression for a moment before disappearing completely, a small quick to wash away any trace of sadness Pitch might have seen.

But Pitch.

Although his motivation and inspiration had not suffered, Pitch could not recover as quickly as Sera seemed to have. Every time he looked over at the bay window, expecting the quirky smile and cock-sure pose of the alabaster boy he had grown fond of to find nothing but empty space, a patch of white on his floor that he couldn’t get rid of his only reminder that Jack had even been there in the first place.

His dreams were filled with nothing but darkness; no dreams of soothing white, no comforting presence in the background, not even dreams of skin-soaking cold that he’d first experienced with Jack in his life.

It was as if all traces of Jack had vanished along with the statue and it only served to demonstrate how alone Pitch really was. He missed his presence, not just for the inspiration he gave Pitch, but for filling the hole of loneliness Pitch had tried so hard to ignore, tried so hard to believe wasn’t actually there.

Sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger then checked the time, saving his work again before putting his computer on standby, moving to grab his things and pick up Sera from the park. He wanted to give the ending one last read-through before he sent it off to Sandy for editing, to make sure he was fully satisfied but his thoughts had turned morose and he couldn’t concentrate. Picking up Sera a little earlier than usual would take his mind off things; maybe a brisk walk around the park together would help put his thoughts in order.

Pulling on his coat and gloves, he grabbed his keys and left, driving carefully through the grey slush that littered the road now that the snow was melting. It seemed that Jack had taken the snow with him upon his statue’s demise, which only soured Pitch’s mood. He’d begun to grow fond of the stuff.

Pulling into a space, Pitch got out and locked his car, walking through the park gates and heading towards the playing fields, his concentration torn between looking for a sign of Sera and staring out at the scenery, snow crunching underfoot as he moved off the path and onto the field.

A slight breeze picked up, ruffling his hair and he closed his eyes as he stood still, soaking it all in. For the briefest moment, he thought he could feel icy fingers in his hair, a spot of coldness in the centre of his chest that swelled and then dissipated just as quickly, leaving him feeling refreshed, dejected but yet uplifted.

Pitch sighed, inhaling and letting the last of the cold winter air burn his throat before exhaling heavily. “Thank you”, he whispered, letting a smile creep onto his face-

“Heads up!!”

Pitch blinked and turned only to get a face full of snow, yelping as the force of it crashed into him made him stagger back and fall flat on his ass, landing on a small snow drift as pieces of it ran down his face, neck and even his hair, leaving cold wet trails as it melted against the heat of his skin.

He struggled to sit up as he heard hurried footsteps crunch towards him through the snow, a hand on his shoulder as the person crouched beside him, panting. “Oh God I’m so sorry! Are you hurt? Did you fall badly?”

Pitch wiped away the snow with a disgusted noise, rubbing the icy water from his eyes. “I’m ok, I’m fine, I just-“

He stopped and stared up at his attacker, mouth hanging open.

As he locked gazes with the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

Blinking, he snapped his mouth shut, quickly standing and brushing the errant snow from his hair, eyes never leaving the small frame next to him as they followed suit, straightening up.

It was a young man, Pitch assumed early twenties, who was so lithe and slight that the top of his head only just reached Pitch’s chest. His head was topped with fluffy white hair that stuck up in all directions, a thin line of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, partially concealed by the flush that had sprung up due to the cold and exertion. He wore a deep blue hoodie and skinny brown jeans the clung to every inch of him, his blue and white sneakers scuffed from over-use.

But it was his eyes, those clear, blue, all-encompassing eyes that struck him to the core, feeling rooted to the spot by those eyes, a bell like recognition in his chest. A cocky grin quirked his mouth, revealing a small over bite and it was all Pitch could do to swallow against the lump in his throat.

“You sure you’re ok? Didn’t hurt anything…important?”

Pitch blinked then realised he should probably answer. “No I’m…I’m fine. Thank you”.

The boy’s grin widened, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well it was kinda my fault…I forget how…involved, the kids can get”.

“Kids?” Pitch blinked and looked over the boys shoulder, suddenly noticing a small group of children standing not too far off behind the boy, watching their exchange quietly. He spied Sera in the process of making a snowman and waved at her, the boy turning to see Sera waving back, turning back to Pitch with light in his eyes. “You’re Sera’s dad?”

“Ah yes…I came to see if she’d like to take a walk around the park with me before we went home” he replied, shuffling awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Would…would you care to join us?”

The boy blinked, his grin slipping slightly. “Really?” He bit his lip, looking over his shoulder. “I can’t really leave the kids…”

“They can come too of course…it doesn’t look like Sera’s ready to leave them yet either” Pitch replied, huffing in amusement as Sera threw snow at a friend, squealing when they retaliated, the boy chuckling in amusement before turning back to Pitch.

“Sounds like fun…there’s a coffee vendor down by the pond I buy the kids hot coco from…maybe I could treat you to one too? As an apology for the…earlier mishap with the snow?”

Pitch grinned. “That sounds wonderful”.

They shared a grin before the boy turned, running off towards the kids to grab their attention. Pitch blinked and then started, holding out a hand. “Wait! What’s your name?” he called after him.

The boy turned mid-step to look at him with a radiant smile; full of fun and the promise of something more, a familiarity that was both new and heart-wrenchingly recognizable.

“Jack! My name is Jack Frost!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving the ending up for interpretation. Was the statue a muse? Was the spirit of 'Jack' real? Or all in Pitch's head? Totally up to you guys! I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be added as and when as with all my fics so please be patient!


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